Tired
by Crystalline Temptress
Summary: Hermione’s tired, and she finds both pain and solace in Draco Malfoy.


"Tired"  
By the **Crystalline Temptress** (**C.T.** for short)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_ and any of the characters therein. I am not earning any money from this venture.

**Author's Notes:** This is the fic/cookie I promised **twin-v** containing **tired/stressed Hermione**, **Formula One fan Draco**, **snow**, and **angst**. This was written in compliance to the _Past, Present, Future_ fic challenge posted by **marred clarity** on the **S.S. Leather & Libraries** cookie jar, which states that the fic must contain three scenes (one in the past, one in the present, and one in the future). The last line of the first scene must be the first line of the second scene; the last line of the second scene must be the first line of the third scene; and, the last line of the third scene must be the first line of the first scene.

This may still be edited.

* * *

Hermione felt the pain recede at last. She glanced at her palm, frowning when she saw that it was still rather red. It still burnt, but she ignored the sting. It was all worth it to have slapped Draco. The boy was insufferable, and he just did _not_ know when to stop!

She stared at her hand. _He's hurt me again_, she realized; he made her hurt herself to hurt _him_.

Dealing with Draco was like wielding a double-edged sword. Hermione knew that whatever revenge she brought upon him—intended or not—would return to her, because in hurting _him_, she'd hurt herself.

She couldn't take it anymore; she had far too much on her mind, and Draco just _had_ to add fuel to the fire. On top of her anxiety regarding Buckbeak's execution and her additional requirements from her additional classes, she also had to deal with her currently tempestuous relationship with Harry and Ron, as well as the immaturity of certain people—namely Draco Malfoy.

Hermione kept staring at her palm for long moments before she finally glanced at her open Charms textbook spread out before her. She really wanted to concentrate on her studies, but she felt as if her mind was far too crammed at the moment. She glanced at the Time-Turner lying upon her lap. She knew that it was time for her next class . . . but she was so tired, and so frustrated . . .

_Damn Malfoy for making everything so complicated_, Hermione sighed inwardly, willing his pallid face and his smirk away from her mind . . . and finding that she couldn't. She grunted with frustration, almost ready to tear out her own hair . . . if only she weren't so tired.

Hermione closed her eyes and laid her head down to rest for a while.

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes and laid her head down to rest for a while. Nothing but thoughts of Draco filled her mind, warming her with bittersweet intoxication. Although she was back with her parents in the Muggle world for Christmas, seeing as she wanted to ensure their safety as much as possible, her thoughts were occupied with nothing but the magical world she had left behind . . . and the magical boy who'd left his mark in her life.

It was strange how the outbreak of the war had changed him so greatly. Immediately after his father's imprisonment in Azkaban, Voldemort had come to their estate to brand him with the Dark Mark. Narcissa begged the Dark Lord to reconsider, as Draco was but a boy . . . only to die at the mercy of her own sister, Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco then made the choice to sever all ties he had with the Dark Lord and fled the Malfoy Manor to seek asylum at Hogwarts. Dumbledore granted it to him, and he had, since then, joined the sight of the Light.

Draco was again re-appointed as Prefect, and once again, he worked alongside Hermione. In their long nights together, doing homework and making their rounds, Hermione learned of his story . . . and the two began to fall in love.

Hermione sighed and turned over in her bed, reminiscing about the many nights she had with Draco. She remembered their many snowball fights in the school gardens, and their many evenings curled up before the fire in the Room of Requirement whilst it continued to snow outside.

They were in turbulent times, and even if it was dangerous for the two of them to keep seeing one another, Hermione felt that in her world of misery and darkness, it was only fair that she had at least one sliver of light . . . and only too ironic that she would find comfort in who was once one of her worst (if not most childish and spoilt) enemies. Harry and Ron were still her best friends, but they too had their own worries, most especially Harry . . . so she let them be, silently supporting them when they needed her, and being the best friend that she could be . . . and there was Draco, who was _her_ support and her lover.

They shared many happy moments, blazing brightly in Hermione's stream of consciousness amidst turmoil and despair, all of which they recorded in a large scrapbook they had acquired in one of their rare visits to Hogsmeade. It was full of origami figures, letters, both still and animated photographs, as well as some relevant and inspiring Arithmancy articles, Formula One clippings (Draco discovered cars in one of Hermione's Muggle encyclopedias and was so fascinated that Hermione introduced him to the racing sport, which he'd enjoyed instantly), candy wrappers, and what have you. Whenever she was feeling depressed and lonely, she'd rifle through the scrapbook and find solace in the wisps of memory contained therein.

Deciding that all her reminiscing was making her nostalgic, Hermione rose from her bed and strode to her bookshelf to read, hoping to calm herself down enough to get some rest.

Just then, there was a blaze of light, and Hermione felt the world tilt beneath her.

* * *

Just then, there was a blaze of light, and Hermione felt the world tilt beneath her. She hit the ground with a thud, her skull throbbing with the impact. Her stomach clenched with desperation, anger, and deep sorrow. Since the attack she'd experienced in her parents' home back in Muggle London, she'd witnessed nothing but death and destruction, and it continued to eat her up from inside, tearing her apart.

Hermione struggled to stand. Jets of light streaked past her in all directions, and several explosions sounded in the vicinity. Pain seared through her bones the moment she'd finally hauled herself to her feet. She brought a hand to push her hair back, and her fingers met sticky residue. She tucked her hair behind her ear nevertheless, and when she'd brought her palm before her eyes, she'd found that it was covered in congealing blood—her own. It was only then that she realized that her head hurt unbelievably.

"_Are you alright_?" Draco yelled a few feet away from her, shielding himself from a blast of red light and deflecting it at his hooded attacker.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, but she doubted that he could hear her. Her lungs burnt; her head was being cleaved in two. The world blurred around her.

She whipped her head around, surveying the scene before her as quickly as her befuddled brain could manage. A blur of reds and oranges amidst a striking canvas of black told her that the once massive edifice known as Hogwarts was burning. The towers were crumbling upon themselves, and the building was slowly beginning to collapse. People were screaming all around her, and several bodies lined the ground. She could see familiar faces staring up at her glassily from the bloodied soil. Seamus watched her unseeingly from the ground, his mouth open in a silent scream. Lavender lay beside him, tears still lingering upon her lashes and blood still gushing out from her temple. In the distance, she saw Ginny fall to her knees before a hooded Death Eater. She could hear Ron's outraged bellow, and the choked scream that followed afterwards.

Hermione glanced towards Draco and saw that he was still battling valiantly, throwing hexes and deflecting them effortlessly. She realized that he was dueling against his aunt, Bellatrix. She moved sluggishly towards him, attempting to help.

It was just then that she realized that Bellatrix had seen her. The older woman's lips curled into a triumphant smirk, and before she had a chance to do anything else, a jet of purple light hit her squarely between the eyes.

The world dimmed. She heard Draco yell her name amidst Bellatrix's cruel laughter.

Hermione sighed. She wanted to reach for Draco, but she could no longer see . . . in fact, she could no longer feel . . . everything was dissolving around her, and in a few minutes, she knew that she would vanish as well.

She barely felt it when she fell to the ground. She'd become numb, and the world had grown dark.

She only had one regret: she wouldn't be able to fill the scrapbook she shared with Draco. She whispered him an apology before succumbing to the tiredness that wound through her bones.

She laid her head down in surrender.

Hermione felt the pain recede at last.


End file.
